


Pieces

by mycatsaninja47



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, Gavin gets beat up a lot, Geoff is a teacher, High School AU, I'm quite proud of it, Michael's dad is a dick, So are Jack and Ryan, etc - Freeform, it's p good trust me, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycatsaninja47/pseuds/mycatsaninja47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones is on his fourth "first day" of his new school- what with his mom being the tour manager for a world-famous band, or whatever. However his new school, RT High, is a bit different. The first thing he sees is someone getting beaten up, his graphics class is all about competing for a makeshift "Tower of Pimps", and his new friend Gavin's home situation is a little bit fishy. With a cute girl named Lindsay, a bitch of an algebra teacher, and his fuckface of a dad showing up, he has enough teenage drama- but when he learns just how bad his friend is getting bullied, he knows he has to get revenge on the one who's causing it all. Can him and his friends (with the help of some teachers and even the principal) think up the perfect plan to get back at Chase? Will Michael's fuckface dad ever take the hint that Michael doesn't like his dumb face? Will Michael ever find the courage to ask out the cutie with the red hair??? ?? Read to find out! I promise, the story isn't as stupid and cheesy as the description. (I already have this whole thing written, but I'll be updating every week with two chapters, and earlier if there's a demand to!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New

Michael’s alarm clock was the most annoying thing in existence. At least, on the first day of school it was.

  “Shut the hell up,” he muttered groggily, pounding his fist down on the beeping clock. He peeled his eyes open, but snapped them shut almost immediately as the bright light of a January Texas morning seeped through his window. He was _not_ in the mood for this.

    “Michael!” His mother’s cheery, sing-songy voice drifted up the stairs and made its way into Michael’s ears. When he only groaned loudly in response, she rolled her eyes and walked up to his room, shaking him awake.”Get up, sleepyhead!” She smiled, squatting down so she was eye level with him. “It’s your first day at your new school!” At this, Michael finally sat up and glared at her.

  “Mom, how the hell are you so damn chipper all the time?” He asked, not bothering to watch his mouth. His mother didn’t mind if he cursed in front of her; in fact, she encouraged it. It made her feel like he trusted her more, or something. “This is my fourth ‘first day’ this school year alone. Another damn house. Another fucking school. I’m a junior, Mom. You know how goddamned hard it is to move to a new high school- or, you know, _four_ \- in your junior year? Everyone always knows each other, and when I _finally_ manage to make friends, we just end up moving again.” His mother’s happy demeanor faltered, then fell, and a frown replaced her smile.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” she sighed, gathering him into a hug (which Michael grudgingly returned). “Having the perfect job comes with a price, you know?” Michael chuckled in agreement. It’s true, she did have the perfect job-- as the manager for Silent Thunder, a hard rock band that had sprung to fame in nearly record-breaking time (basically overnight). It got Michael major popularity points, that’s for sure, but it came with some serious downsides during a tour-- once the band was done touring that region of the U.S, they moved to an entirely new part of the country. It also resulted in his mom never being home. Michael had basically learned to sustain himself- he even paid the bills sometimes. “It’s just for this year, Michael, don’t worry. Touring is almost over, anyways.” His mom’s repeated statement was true: it was towards the end of the school year (early January), and Michael was promised that he’d be going to this school until the end of the year.

  “Now, come get ready for school.” This time, Michael obliged, knowing not to push his mother when she wasn’t happy. As a single mother who was the manager for one of the most famous bands in the world- he didn’t like her when she was angry.

 

  Now, Michael Jones was an overall confident guy. Not in the cocky, “I’m-better-than-you” type of way, but he was just.. confident. Whether it was girls, school, speaking out, or just being himself, Michael had always been comfortable in his own skin. He had no problem with standing up or opposing the things he hated; which included bullying. He absolutely hated any type of bullying, and he had good reasons to. Michael had been relentlessly taunted and pushed around all throughout elementary and middle school-- at least, until he enrolled in self-defense classes and learned how to beat the shit out of anybody that tried to do anything to him. Ever since then, no one messed with him.

  So you can only imagine what Michael felt when the first thing he saw as he stepped into RT High was someone getting beaten up.

  “Oi! Chase, p-please, stop it!” The kid, who was British, gasped, clutching his stomach after the bully had punched it. In response, the big, burly kid who was beating him up-- Chase-- sneered.

  “Why, British boy? You’ve had all Christmas break off, but now you’re back, and I’ve missed breaking that huge, ugly nose of yours.” A fist connected with the rather large nose of the boy, causing him to stumble back and crash into the lockers. “Why didn’t you just kill yourself over Christmas break, you faggot? You’re worthless.” This whole ordeal enraged Michael (which was never, ever a good thing), but what made him almost sick to his stomach was the fact that _no one did anything about it_. He’d seen this too many times before-- this was “the way things were” or whatever-- but that was about to change.

 “Hey, fuckface!” Michael growled, stepping towards the bully and interrupting the punching process. The big guy turned slowly to face him, and a crowd had quickly formed around him.

  “What the hell did you just say to me?” Chase asked, looking over Michael with a look of disgust.

 “I said-” he repeated calmly, stepping closer, “ _Hey fuckface_.” At this, Chase laughed.

 “Oh, I see. You’re new here, aren’t you, punk? Well, let me lay down the rules. I am the head of this school. Do as I say, and I let you live. If you don’t do what I say- hell, even if I don’t like you- you end up like that faggot over there.” He paused to jerk his thumb back at his victim, who was cowering against the lockers. “That’s just how things are. Now, just go ahead and leave me to fi-” the bully was suddenly distracted from his speech by Michael’s fist connecting with his face.

  The majority of the crowd gasped, but a few cheered him on as Chase stumbled back into the lockers, joining the British boy. Michael smiled, savoring the look of surprise and anger on Chase’s face before he got up to retaliate. The big guy swung his fist at the new kid’s head, but Michael caught it and twisted it. He then used the arm to pull Chase closer to him, and kicked him square in the chest.

  It wasn’t so much of a fight as it was a beating. The head honcho tried and failed to injure his opponent (okay, that’s a lie: he might’ve gotten _one_ punch in, causing Michael’s nose to bleed a little) while Michael did no less that pummel him into the ground. It only stopped when the principal himself, Mr. Burns, rushed out to pull the two apart. And just like that, Michael had landed himself in the principal’s office before the late bell even rang.


	2. Introductions

 “Mr. Jones, I understand that it’s your first day, but that doesn’t give you grounds to beat the crap out of a student,” Mr. Burns said through bites of sandwich. Michael sighed.

 “I know, but I had good reason to! He was beating up this kid- British, kind of big nose- and nobody was doing anything about it! I had to do something!”

  The principal sighed and swallowed a mouthful of turkey and cheese before continuing. “I understand your reasoning, but under school rules, I have to call your mother..” suddenly, he winked at him. “However, I suppose I can let you off with a warning this time.”

 Michael could hardly believe was he was hearing. “B-But- really?!” In response, Mr. Burns leaned it and whispered to the new student.

 “Between you and me, I’ve been wanting someone to do something about Chase for a while now. But… well, I guess you could say he’s untouchable.” And with that comment, Michael found himself wandering the school, looking for his homeroom.

   

  “Oi!” A familiar voice from down the hall made Michael jump, as he was too busy trying to figure out where the hell he was supposed to be. He turned around to see the same boy he defended bounding out of what looked like the nurse’s office, holding an ice pack to his heavily bandaged nose. The new student slowed to let him catch up, and then asked him if he was alright.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’m fine. Thanks for that, by the way. You know- standing up for me and all that. Nobody’s ever really done that before.” He got quiet for a moment.

 . “Don’t worry about it… uh..” he racked his brain to try and remember if the Brit had ever told him his name. The guy seemed to catch on, and he smacked himself in the forehead.

  “Oh! Sorry! I’m a smeggin’ idiot, aren’t I? I’m Gavin. Gavin Free.” Gavin stuck his hand out, and Michael took it, but then Gavin seemed to realize why he had approached Michael in the first place. “What homeroom are you in? I could help you find it.” Michael, in response, squinted down at his schedule.

   “Uh… Langley.”

 “Oh! That’s my homeroom! Top, let’s go.” Gavin started running down the hall, and Michael sprinted to catch up with him. Eventually, they came to room 223, and cautiously walked in.

   The room was filled with students, each sitting at partner lab tables. Gavin looked at Michael and said, “I’ve gotta go sit with Dan, he’s my lab partner. Sorry,” and made his way through the classroom to sit at a table with another guy. Michael looked around for an empty table, at a loss. His new friend mouthed “sorry” and then pointed to one that only had a single person on there. This guy had brown hair and eyes, and wore glasses and a shirt that read “Ask about my zombie plan”. Michael quickly went to sit down next to him just as the teacher walked into the room.

 “Sorry about that, class, I-” she turned to face the body of students and immediately noticed the new student. “Oh yes! We have a new student that will be staying with us for the remainder of the school year. This is Michael Jones. Come on up here for a sec, Michael.” The boy slowly got out of his seat and walked to the front of the room. He never liked introductions- he always preferred to just slip into the flow of things immediately and pretend like he was here the whole time.

 “Hey, I’m Michael.” He waved at the class (as well as hearing whispers of “wasn’t he the one that beat Chase up?”), and took this opportunity to scan the classroom. It was a pretty small class- there was Gavin, and the guy he was sitting next to, and then his new lab partner. Then there were two girls directly in front of him; one had blonde hair, and the other one had red hair. The one with the red hair smiled cheerily and waved at him, while the blonde-haired girl simply nodded her head towards him. He moved on to look at the others in the class, but he was interrupted by Mrs. Langley.

 “Hello, Michael! Tell us three things about yourself,” she smiled at him, and he sighed.

“Okay.. I like video games, my mom is the manager for Silent Thunder, and I'm pretty good with computers, I guess.” He tried not to laugh at the eruption of gasps that came from his new classmates when he mentioned Silent Thunder, and instead went to sit down beside his lab partner.

  “Dude, you’re lying, right?” The guy said to him, and Michael shook his head.

“Nah, I’m serious; Amelia Jones, manager of Silent Thunder,” he replied dismissively. The guy nodded with silent respect.

 “That’s pretty cool, dude. I’m Ray, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and Michael took it. “You like video games?” He asked, referring back to his first fact. The new student nodded, smiling.

 “Any good video game you can think of, I can play.” He wasn’t bragging; he was literally just stating a fact. At this, Ray smiled back.

 “Well then. We’ll definitely be friends.”

 

  So far, school was going pretty well. He had nearly all of his classes with Gavin and Ray, as well as the redheaded girl that had waved to him. His engineering teacher, Mr. Pattillo, was pretty awesome, and so was his social studies teacher, Mr. Haywood. But nothing compared to the moment he entered his graphics classroom.

  Immediately, Michael Jones knew he was going to love this class. Posters lined the walls, only a few of them relating to education. The rest of them were movie posters, video game posters, band posters- you name it. As soon as he caught sight of the teacher, his results were locked in- this was his favorite class.

 The teacher was probably in his 30s, with a hilarious handlebar mustache and tattoos literally everywhere on his arms. He was wearing a Halo shirt and eating a bag of chips. “Hey guys, what’s up? I,” he pointed to himself, “am Geoff, your new graphics teacher. Welcome to your graphics class!”

   Michael found a seat at one of the long tables that had the computers on them, between Gavin and Ray, who were both in awe of the posters.

  “Okay, so here’s how this class works. Basically, every week is a competition. Whoever does the best work of the day gets a little gold block.” He grabbed a small, 3-D printed yellow cube from his desk, and then pointed to each of our computers.”You see those little black cubes on your desks? You’ll put your blocks on that. And if you get four blocks in a row, it makes a little thing called a Tower of Pimps.” As students giggled, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, real mature.” He then went on to talk more about himself; he had a wife named Griffon (who Michael thought was hot) and a daughter named Millie (who Gavin cooed over). He gave his guidelines and expectations for the class, and Michael’s love for graphics only grew.

  They would be doing things like designing their own video games, as well as playing original video games and research how they were originally constructed. They’d also be creating and sharing their own music. Geoff would be the judge in terms of the Tower of Pimps, and Friday a winner would be announced and their name would be put up on the door until the following Friday. As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Michael couldn’t help but sigh. Next was math- his least favorite subject.

  “Oh, you- you have Stuart?” Gavin asked in the hall, a flash of fear appearing in his eyes. Michael nodded, and pity shone in his friend’s eyes. “Sorry, mate. I had her, but I transferred out. Good luck!” He was swept into the hoard of students rushing to get to class, leaving the new student to discover the wrath of this Mrs. Stuart lady all on his own.

 

  “Now class. I know you’ve all heard this before, but I’m going to tell you the rules again for our new student, Mr. Jones.” Groans erupted throughout the classroom as Mrs. Stuart, a tall woman in her mid-50s with chesnut hair in a pixie cut hairstyle and sharp, grey-blue eyes, began her speech. “Okay, let me lay down the rules.” As soon as she began to talk, Michael got the weirdest feeling that he had heard this before.

   “I am the head of this class. That means that you do as I say, or you will definitely end up failing. That’s just how things are.” By the end of her speech, the boy was sure he had heard this before. As Mrs. Stuart turned around, he felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped.

  "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," a female voice laughed. Michael turned to see the girl with the red hair- Lindsay, as he had picked up throughout the day- smiled at him. He scoffed.

  "Scared? Yeah right."

 "Huh. Well, you seem pretty scared of Mrs. Stuart. But I don't blame you- she's pretty creepy." Lindsay grinned, and Michael couldn't help but smile back. He didn't notice that the class, which had previously been alive with chatter, had fallen silent.

   "Mr. Jones!" a taut voice suddenly filled the lack of noise, and caused the new student to turn around. Mrs. Stuart was practically seething at him, even though literally everyone else had been talking too. The new student, being the stubborn idiot he was, decided to point that out.

  “Um, Mrs. Stuart, may I ask why you asked why you singled me out when everyone else was talking too?” He asked, and suddenly all eyes were on him. His new algebra teacher’s nostrils flared, and she took a deep breath before replying with a chilling smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Mr. Jones, I just recited the rules! You of all people should know not to talk when I am trying to teach-”

“No, that doesn’t really makes any sense.. I’m new. If anything, you should be singling out the other students. They’re the ones that know not to talk in your class.” This exchange was accompanied by his classmates waiting with bated breath in anticipation of what was going to be said next.

  “Mr. Jones, I believe you are violating my rules,” the woman said, and Michael raised his eyebrows.

  “Actually, no, I didn’t. You only said my name-”

 “That is enough backtalk, Michael Jones! I have no choice but to send you to the office!” Her sudden outburst was met with confused looks from the other students. What? That makes no sense! their faces all seemed to read. Michael begrudgingly stood up and began to exit the classroom, but something on his way out caught his eye. On Mrs. Stuart’s desk, there was a picture of a boy. And suddenly, everything made sense. The speech. The condescending air. Mr. Burns’ comment. _“I guess you could say he’s untouchable.”_

    Man, Chase Stuart was a stupid name.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked! Next two chapters will be posted next week, I suppose. Reviews are welcome!


	3. Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here are chapters three and four for you (four might take a little longer to upload since there are so many spelling errors whoops)! Thanks for all the lovely kudos so far! Questions, comments, and concerns are welcome, and I hope you enjoy~!

  "Michael, seriously?" The principal said, not unkindly. Michael sighed and sat down in the chair for the second time that day.

  "It's not my fault that I have Chase's fricking mom as an algebra teacher," he muttered stubbornly, and Mr. Burns gave an "ohhh" of realization.

   "What happened?"

 "She singled me out when everyone was talking, and I tried to tell her-"

   "You see, there's your problem. She's as stubborn and annoying as her son-- and if her husband wasn't the head of the school district, I'd have fired her ass a long time ago." The principal's mouth should've surprised the junior, but it didn't. Mr. Burns glanced at his watch. "Okay, 20 minutes left of class, you can just hang out here." That was when Michael realized that, excluding Mrs. Stuart, this would be his favorite high school yet.

   "How was school, hon?" His mom called from the kitchen as Michael shut the garage door. He slung his backpack down onto a chair and sat down in front of his computer, opening Minecraft immediately. Mr. Haywood had told them that they would be using Minecraft a lot to "better understand and discover about new life and living out on their own", as well as mapping out land. Michael figured that in order to get a good grade, he would probably need to learn how to play first.

  Only after he had started playing did he even register his mom's question. "It was pretty good, I love all but one of my teachers, she's a serious bitch." Mrs. Jones didn't press on the matter-- she knew not to get him wound up.

  After three surprise Creeper blasts, two zombie attacks, four lava incidents, and one case of misjudging the distance between him and the ground, Michael gave up in a fit of hurled objects, resigning to his room with a Red Bull and a turkey sandwich. He immediately fell asleep, dreaming of pretty girls, big noses, and zombie plans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~```

   "Okay class, today is your first official competition for a piece of the tower!" Geoff exclaimed, opening Minecraft on his computer. Michael groaned. _Might as well just leave now._

   In stark contrast of the new student, noises of excitement escaped the mouths of Gavin and Ray.

    "Okay, so all you have to do-- this should be easy for Mr. Haywood's kids-- is go into Minecraft and be the first one make a diamond pickaxe and sword, and at least one piece of any type of armor." Michael was completely lost by the 'easy' task given to him. How the hell was he supposed to find diamond? What did diamond even look like?!

    Once everyone had logged on and waited for their world to load a bit, Geoff shouted "ReadysetGOOO!" and they were off.

 "Ray," Michael whispered. "Pssst, Ray." His friend glanced in his direction, noticing the new student's pleading expression. "Yeah?"

  "What the fuck does iron look like?"

 And that was how Ray won- at least, he would have, if he had been able to stop laughing.

 

   "Hey, sorry for getting you sent to the principal’s office and everything," Lindsay said in their next period apologetically, biting her lip. Michael, to her surprise, laughed at her sincerity.

  "Nonono, it's totally fine, it wasn't your fault that Mrs. Stuart's son is a little bitch." At this, the girl nodded in a "yeah, you've got a point" kind of way. Not long after, the bitch herself walked in, making a point to glare at Michael before beginning the class.

   At least today he wasn't sent to the office, even though he wished he could've been-- Mr. Burns made way better company than some equations and a bitchy woman who was probably actual Satan. The only thing that kept him from stabbing Mrs. Stuart or himself in the heart with a compass was Lindsay. It turned out, she was fucking awesome. She liked some of the movies he did, and she was hilarious. And there was something about her smile that was twenty times better than the math on the board.

    The rest of the week was fairly normal-- this guy Caleb won the tower the first week, Michael finally found out what iron looked like, Gavin wasn’t cornered by Chase. All in all, a pretty sweet first week. But, like most good things in Michael’s life, it was ruined by his bullshit dad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “Hey, bud!” His dad exclaimed cheerily over the phone.

Michael responded with the most deadpan “Hey, dad” he could manage, hoping he would take the hint and hang up and never call again.

 “How was your first day at school?

“Good.”

“Did you make any new friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like your teachers?”

“I guess.”

It went on like this: his father, using the same damn chipper tone even though his son knew he didn’t actually give a shit, and Michael responding with one-to-two word responses, wishing he could be anywhere but there, doing anything other than that.

 Hey zoned out as his father rambled on about how work in Atlanta was going, and how Michael should visit him sometime. _Yeah, maybe when Hell freezes over,_ he thought. _Maybe I would see you more if you hadn’t fucked another woman and had another kid and chosen them over us when mom found out. Maybe if you actually came home instead of going on all of those “business trips”-- yeah fucking right. Maybe if you had actually cared about me, or even admit that you’d ever done something wrong instead of pretending nothing had happened and continuing on your merry fucking way. Maybe if that had happened, I would visit you more often._

 “Yeah,” he said.

 

 


	4. Gavin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's chapter four. I'm not sure if these are *graphic* depictions of violence, but there is some beating up involved. Make sure to bookmark this for chapters four and five next Friday. Questions, comments, and concerns are welcome, and I hope you enjoy~!

Michael knew that his little act of heroism on his first day would come back to bite him in the ass sooner or later: he was just hoping it would come _later_.

  “Hey, fuckface,” a mocking, high-pitched voice rang out through the nearly-empty hallway, catching Michael’s attention immediately. He turned to face the voice and found Chase, this time with a couple of friends.

  Michael sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Look, guys, I’m not in the mood to fight you again--”

 “Oh, little Mi-cool is scared?” Chase sneered, doing what the junior thought was an impression of Gavin and earning laughs from his chronies. At this, he couldn’t help but respond truthfully.

 “No, I just don’t want you to run to your mommy when I beat you up again: she’s failing me for that, you know.” Michael’s response definitely triggered a reaction: it were only a split second of rage showing through the bully’s false bravado.

  “You’re probably just failing cause you’re a dumbass,” Chase tried to recover with a weak comeback, and Michael decided it wasn’t worth his time.

  “Yeah, okay, sure, you stick with that as I go to college and you’re still stuck in high school,” the younger boy said dismissively, putting his hands in his pockets and turning around, ignoring the shouts of the bully and his minions behind him.

  
  


“They imitated my accent?” Gavin asked in surprise, looking hurt. “What’s wrong with my accent?” Michael scoffed in response.

  “Well, to be fair, it’s pretty fucking ridiculous,” he said as he ruffled his friend’s hair, “but it wasn’t even a good imitation. It didn’t sound _nearly_ as idiotic as yours does.” He shot a smile to the Brit to tell him that he was joking, and Gavin smiled back.

 “Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt your flirting, but I told you to hand up your homework like five minutes ago,” Ray said, earning a roar of laughter from the class. Michael and Gavin shared a look and nodded, both grinning.

 “Sorry, I just… I get so lost in Gavin’s eyes,” the curly-haired boy sighed happily, giving Ray his half-finished homework without taking his eyes off of his British friend.

 “Aw, Mi-cool, stop, you’re making me blush!” Gavin giggled, fake biting his lip and looking away with feigned sheepishness.  Michael winked in response.

   They had everyone’s attention now, good and bad. Most students were laughing their asses off, some girls were fake-squealing, and the rest of the class was looking vaguely uncomfortable.

 “Michael and Gavin, together forever,” Lindsay gasped between bouts of laughter.

“Mavin!” Ray said, and everyone laughed. Eventually, Mrs. Langley (who was holding in chuckles herself), managed to calm down the room and start the lesson, but the name stuck, and “Mavin” was born.

 

~~A SHORT SEGMENT FROM GAV’S PERSPECTIVE~~

 

“Hey, faggot!” Chase called, pushing the door to the bathroom open and storming in. Gavin, who had been washing his hands, heard him and tried to run into the closest stall, but he was too late. The bully grabbed him by his collar and held him up.

   “Heard you were flirting with that new kid. What, do you make out with him in the janitor’s closet before class, or does your nose get in the way? Huh, you worthless gay faggot?” Chase shoved Gavin against the wall and punched him in the gut. “Answer me!”

  “N-no, Ch-Chase, I swear, it’s just a joke, I- I swear.” The victim was gasping for breath.

“Yeah right. You think that just because your boyfriend is so big and tough, he’ll protect you?” He stuck out his lower lip in mock sympathy, before lifting him from the wall only to slam him into it again harder. He brought Gavin’s face so that it was inches to his and growled through his teeth, “Well, where’s your boyfriend now?”

  Once black eye, bleeding lip and nose, bruised cheek, and punched-in stomach later, Gavin was left slumped down on the floor of the boy’s bathroom, not daring to move.  

 And he didn’t. He managed to drag himself into a stall, and, after throwing up, sit down on the toilet seat and pull his legs up so that he was hidden, but otherwise, he was as still as a statue. He sat there for what had to have been at least an hour, leaving him with his thoughts. Or rather, one solitary thought that stuck in his mind.

_Why me?_

 


	5. Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, sorry these are a day late, guys! I fell asleep before I could re-edit and post them last night. Plus the Juggey Let's Play made me forget everything because it was super cute. Anyways, next chapter is coming up in a few minutes. Questions, comments, and concerns are welcome, and as always, I hope you enjoy~!

 “Gavin?” A familiar voice echoed against the walls of the bathroom, and the bruised Brit looked up.

  “Michael?” His voice was a hoarse whisper after not talking for so long.

 “Gavin!” His friend banged on the stall door only to find it unlocked and barge in, his face red in anger. “Gavin, where the fuck were--” He stopped dead. “Oh my god.” Red drained to white as he noticed the splashes of purple, black, blue, yellow, and red on the boy’s face and arms. “Oh my God, Gavin, why didn’t you call me? Holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck… get out of that stupid stall and let me help you!” When he realized that his friend couldn’t move without collapsing, however, his expression became guilty and he hurried to help the Brit up.

 “C’mon, Gav, let’s get you to the nurse,” Michael said softly, but Gavin shook his head, wincing as Michael held him steady and put an arm around his shoulder for support.

 “M’fine,” he mumbled.

“Like hell you’re fine! Look at you Gavin, you’re--”

“I’m fine.” This time he was more articulate, shooting Michael a half-hearted glare. “This happens.. this happens all the time. Not this bad, but I can… I can handle it.” At this. Michael’s gaze softened, realization dawning on him.

 “You’ve always handled this on your own, haven’t you?”

He imagined Gavin, going to school in a hoodie and jeans every day, hiding the bruises, and even stealing his mom’s makeup if it got that bad. He imagined Gavin, limping from class to class, trying to act like nothing was wrong. Gavin, going to the bathroom and not coming back for a long time.

 “Yeah. I mean, no one’s really cared enough,” the Brit said dismissively as if it was normal, shrugging but immediately wincing. Michael was shaking his head in disbelief, ready to set shit straight.

 “Gav, that is bullshit! Of course people care! If you told Ray, or Dan, or Lindsay, or a teacher or the principal… they would all care! We’re gonna stop this, okay? Now, let’s get you to the fucking nurse.” This time, Gavin didn’t protest-- he probably would have if he had the energy, but he didn’t, so he couldn’t.

 

  “Hey mom, I brought a friend home!” Michael called, throwing his keys down on the table with Gavin trailing behind him.

“That’s great! Can I meet them?” His mom’s voice replied, getting closer every second. A minute later, she appeared in the kitchen, her eyes tired but her smile wide.

  “Hi! I’m Michael’s mother.” She stuck her hand out, and Gavin took it politely.

 “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones. I’m Gavin Free,” he said shyly, avoiding her gaze. Michae’s mom smiled and then looked at Michael sympathetically.

“Sorry, hon. I’m meeting with Phil and them in the office-” she jerked her head towards said “office”, where five four men and one woman were visible through the glass door, “-so I won’t be able to cook dinner tonight.”

 “It’s fine, Mom, I’ll make something.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” With that, she retreated back into the office. Michael turned back to Gavin to find him staring wide-eyed at the room his mother had just entered.

 “That’s-- that’s Silent Thunder! Phil, Andrew, Alan, Claire, and Dillian…”  he listed them off in his head, matching names to faces. His friend shrugged.

 “Yeah! I told you that my mom was the manager, right?”

 “B-but they’re my heroes! I have every single one of their songs, they’re number 2 on the charts, and they’re _in your office?”_ The awe and disbelief in Gavin’s voice was the same with every ‘fangirl”, but the look in his eyes was different. Silent Thunder did make a lot of songs about being bullied-- they very well could literally be his heroes. Michael sighed.

 “Do you.. do you want to meet them?” He asked, but he was surprised when Gavin shook his head.

 “Nonono, I couldn’t bother them with another fan, I don’t want to waste their time,” he said quickly. However, his friend was already dragging him towards the door with determination.

 “Hey guys.” The curly-haired junior greeted the world-famous band as if they were just another group of friends. Everyone said hey back casually. Gavin sheltered himself behind his friend, and yelped in surprise when  Michael rolled his eyes and pulled him out into the open. “Listen, guys,” he explained, “this is Gavin, and I know I don’t usually do this, but you guys are kind of his heroes and I wanted to make his day better after having the shit beat out of him today. So here you go, Gavin-- Silent Thunder. Silent Thunder-- Gavin.”

  Gav, who was shaking, smiled nervously and gave a small wave. Claire, the bass player, smiled and waved back.

 “Hey, Gav!” She said. Andrew followed her with a “yo”, and a chorus of “what’s up”s and “hey”s continued afterwards-- and Gavin didn’t say a word.

 “C;mon, you mincy prick, say something,” Michael nudged him with his elbow. Suddenly, it was like his friend’s switch was turned on, and his brain and mouth went into overdrive.

 “Sorry I just really like you guys and you guys saved my life a bit and I’m just kind of in awe because I always wanted to meet you and here you are in my best friend’s office and I’m sorry to bother you but could you guys sign something and can I maybe get a picture with you?” He said this all in one breath, a nervous air around him.

  “Yeah, sure, you’re fine!” Phil, the lead vocals, smiled

“You’re not bothering us, seriously,” Andrew, the drummer, followed up with.

 “you have no idea how happy it makes us to meet fans.” Claire grinned, blowing some of her pink hair out of her face. Gavin, relieved (but not quite convinced) that he wasn’t annoying them, smiled and slung his backpack off his shoulders. He rummaged through it, trying to find something worth keeping that was autographable.

 “You know what? Screw it,” he sighed, pulling out that day’s math homework. “Can you just sign my trig homework?” The band laughed, but agreed, and Gavin knew it was worth losing the grade for. But while the Brit was meeting with his favorite band, Michael couldn’t stop thinking about something he had said.

   _You guys saved my life._ Did he really mean it?

 There had to be something else going on with Gavin. Something bigger than Michael could imagine.

  
  



	6. Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Ignore the fact that the name of this chapter is the title of the story-- the story title was originally Revenge is a Bitch and so am I, but I thought that Pieces suited it better, and I'm not original enough to think of a better chapter name. See you guys next week with chapters 7 and 8 (personally, my favorite two chapters)! Questions, comments, and concerns are welcome, and as always, I hope you enjoy~!

 “Absolutely not.” Gavin refused Michael and Ray’s suggestion once again, much to their dismay. They were currently in the crowded RTHS cafeteria, with Michael and Gavin reluctantly poking at their food and Ray chowing down.

 “But why not? You’ve been to our houses, why can’t we go to yours?” Ray whined. Gavin rolled his eyes.

 “Ray, if you ask me one more time I swear to God I will stuff cake down your throat while you sleep. At this, Ray shut up. “And besides,”, the Brit continued, “you should respect my privacy and just leave me be.”

  “I bet it’s because his room is pink.”

“It is not!” Gavin’s ears burned red, and Ray laughed.

  “Michael would know.” There goes the Mavin again. Gavin flinched, his fingers flying up to his face, where a bruise had begun to yellow. Ray didn’t notice and kept on eating his lunch, but Michael shot him a worried glance. The Brit just faked a smile and tried to convince Michael-- and himself-- that he was find. It only convinced one of them, and Michael looked away.

  Ray and Michael really did want to know why Gav didn’t want them to see his house, but they had different views on the matter. Ray thought it was because he had really embarrassing parents, or a pink house, or Zac Efron posters lining his bedroom walls or something. Michael, on the other hand, was worried about his friend. What if his home life was just as bad as his school life? What if his parents were abusive, or drunkards, or druggies? What if he just lived in a shack or something? He had to have a good reason for not to telling them.

  They slowly fit the pieces of the puzzle together, but it took a while.  

 

“Gavin Free, please report to the student office,” the monotone voice said through the intercom. Ray, who had been going to the bathroom that was right next to the office, grew excited. What if his parents are here?

  He slowly peeked out of the restroom, his gaze focused on the office (which was made mostly of one long window, taking up the upper half of the walls and therefore allowing him a perfect view). He saw his British friend make his way to the office, but not to meet his parents– to meet their graphics teacher.

 "What the hell..?" Ray muttered to himself as he saw Geoff hand Gavin something: a slip of paper, it looked like. As Gav exited and began walking to his classroom, the snooping friend bolted out of the bathroom.

    "What'd you go to the office for?" Ray asked nonchalantly. Man, the movies were right– "acting natural" was hard as fuck.

  "Oh, nothing, just getting a bus pass." The Brit stuffed the piece of paper in his pocket dismissively. Ray knew he should have pressed harder, but he didn't. Piece one was in place.

  

   Piece two didn't appear until the following week, in graphics class.

     "Okay guys, I had some help from Gavin on today's challenge," Geoff said, holding up flash drives. It was a Tuesday– Minecraft Day (On Mondays, they worked on their video games they were creating, Tuesday  was Minecraft Day, Wednesday was when they worked on their music, Thursday was a Graphic Design Challenge, and Friday was different every week). Gavin smiled sheepishly and made his way to the front of the room to explain the rules.

  Michael knew something was off, but he had no idea that piece two was already in place.

 This was a four-piece puzzle: but usually, if you have three of the four pieces, you can still see what the big picture is; even without some small details.

 

 "Okay guys, as you can probably tell, my daughter is with me today. She had a doctor's appointment, so I just took her back here when it was over." Geoff motioned to the 8-year-old sitting in his chair as the fourth period graphics students started to fill the classroom. Gavin's two best friends noticed that he seemed to be  trying to hide himself. Geoff noticed too, and looked at Millie, then at Gavin, then at Mille, and suddenly his expression was apologetic. Michael wondered why, but his question was answered when Millie noticed the Brit and her eyes lit up.

  "GAVIN!" She said enthusiastically. Thankfully, not many people had made it to class yet, so her outburst didn't fall on too many ears.

 "Hey, Millie," he smiled reluctantly as she jumped up and ran through the rows of long tables to hug him. Ray and Michael gave each other confused glances, both wondering how the hell their graphics teacher's daughter knew their friend--

  And suddenly, everything fell into place: Geoff giving Gavin the note, Gavin having the time to help him with such complicated Minecraft structures, Millie knowing Gavin.

  "Oh my god," they both said simultaneously, looking from an oblivious Millie to an apologetic Geoff to a resigned Gavin.

 "I know, I know." Gavin sighed, sitting back down and hanging his head. "It's pretty embarrassing, innit?" He gave a bitter laugh as his ears burned red, but Michael scoffed.  

  "What? No it's not! You're living with the coolest teacher in the school; that's awesome!" And it was. No abuse, no drugs. Just a teacher as a guardian.

  Of course, that still left one piece of the puzzle missing.

Where the hell were Gavin's real parents?

 

 


	7. Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am SO sorry this is late, school starts tomorrow and I still haven't finished my summer assignments, whoops. I do think that these next two chapters are worth it though-- they're personally my favorite chapters! Hope you can forgive me. Questions, comments, and concerns are welcome, and as always, I hope you enjoy~!

"Fucking hell no he isn't."

  This was Michael's only statement after his mother gave him the 'big news': his dad was coming down to visit for two weeks.

  "I know, sweetie," she sighed. "I am definitely not happy about it either. But he's checking into a hotel nearby and you're staying with him because I have to go to Louisiana to set up for the new concert.." She trailed off, noticing that she had unwillingly enraged her son– which was never good.

 However, Michael kept his anger under check (with extreme difficulty). "Can't I stay at Gav's?" He muttered through gritted teeth, trying not to explode at her. He wasn't mad at his mom, anyways: it wasn't her fault that he had a bullshit dad.

 Her expression became thoughtful, and she was silent for a minute (which was good for Michael– it gave him time to cool down). Eventually, without saying a word, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

  "Hello?" She asked, her tone sounding happy but her expression suggesting the exact opposite. "Yeah. Hey Dag. Yeah. Listen, Michael and his friend have this huge project to work on for the next couple of weeks– yeah, I know, yes– and Michael-" she paused, and then revised her sentence, "-his friend was thinking that it would be much faster and much more efficient if Michael stayed at his house for the next two weeks. So, uh, yeah, that's going to happen. Okay, bye." She pressed end and took a deep, calming breath before smiling at her son, her face strained.  

  "Okay, that settles it!" She said, and Michael couldn't help but smile and run to hug her.

 "Thanks mom," he sighed, ecstatic that he didn't have to spend an entire two weeks with him, and ecstatic that he had the coolest mom ever.

 

 "Thanks so much again, Geoff," Michael said, sitting in the back of his teacher's car beside Millie. Geoff waved it off with a tattooed hand.

 "It's fine. Just don't be idiots and stay up too late talking about cute naked boys and how chiseled Ray is." Both boys laughed, but Michael still couldn't thank him enough.

 

  "And, here it is! Your new home for the next two weeks. Make yourself comfortable," Gavin told him as they stepped into the house. He led Michael to his room, the main feature of it being that posters lined the walls. The guest sat down his suitcase and backpack and unceremoniously jumped on his friends bed.

 "I can get used to this."

 

 "How can you be so fucking bad at a game you know so much about?" Michael asked, only half joking. They were on his xBox, playing Minecraft, and Gavin had died more times than Michael had– which was both surprising and hilarious.

Millie was in bed, and the boys were eating leftover brownies from dinner– Griffon, Geoff's wife, was an amazing cook.

 "Michael!" Gavin whined, and his friend rolled his eyes and smiled. This was indescribably better than staying in a mingy hotel with his bullshit dad. So yeah: he could definitely get used to this.

 

  "Mr. Haywood, do you have Michael Jones?" The classroom's intercom suddenly beeped to life and asked. Michael looked up from drawing his map of his Minecraft world to look at the speaker quizzically.

  "Yeah, we have him," his teacher responded.

  "We need him for an early dismissal." At that, the curly-haired teen and Gavin turned to look at each other, befuddlement on both of their faces.

 "Uh... Mr. Haywood?" My parents are out of town," Michael said reluctantly. His teacher furrowed his brow.   

  "Huh. That's weird. You should probably go up there anyways to see what's up. You should probably take your stuff, too."

  Although he was extremely confused, he complied, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and exiting the room.

 

  "Hey, bud!" His dad smiled, waving to him with that big shit-eating grin of his. He looked the same as ever– same beer gut, same stupid brown-grey hair and stubble, same idiotic smile.

 "I don't know you," was his son's immediate reaction. The secretary behind the desk glanced up, confused and slightly concerned. Mr. Jones gave a "what-are-you-doing" look and smiled nervously, laughing.

 "What are you talking about? I'm your dad! I know you haven't seen me in a while, but-"

 "Nope. Never seen you before in my life." His son was stubborn and defiant on the outside, but inwardly he was panicking. _What the fuck is he doing here? He's not supposed to be here!_

  "Is there a problem here, dear?" The secretary asked Michael, and he nodded.

  "This guy isn't my dad," he told her. Her eyes grew wide, her expression laced with concern.

 "Are you.. sure?" She asked, looking from man to student. Suddenly, his father reached into his pocket and pulled out his driver's license. It read "Daggett Jones".

 "You can check records. I'm his dad, I-I swear! This is all just a misunderstanding."

 The woman, still confused, consulted her computer, and for a few painfully awkward moments it was silent aside from the clicking of the keys.

 "Michael Vincent Jones. Son of Daggett Vincent Jones and Martha Chrystal Jones." The secretary read off of the screen. Daggett looked relieved, but Michael was pissed. Couldn't he take a hint? He was not going anywhere with that asshole.

  "Why the hell did you say you didn't know me, Michael? It did nothing but land me in a meeting with the principal tomorrow!" His dad shut the car door and turned his face to his son. Michael, still trying not to explode, simply shrugged, and Dag started backing out of his parking space.

 "Where are we going, anyways?" He muttered, and his dad grinned.

 "I don't know! Where do you want to go?"

That was it. They weren't even out of the parking lot and Michael was done. What kind of fucking person shows up after not seeing his son for a year and then just picks him up from school to go nowhere? He was perfectly happy at school– and now he was done.

  He shifted his foot to the left and slammed it down on the breaks, ready to let out everything he had been holding in for two years.

  "What the-"

 "Shut the fuck up. I don't want to go anywhere with you. Just fucking drop me off again and go back to Atlanta with your other fucking wife and kid." At this, Daggett looked completely bewildered, his mouth wide open.

 "Mikey.. I-"

 "No. Fuck you. You _really_ hurt us. For the longest time, my mom couldn't function. I had to do everything– I had to cook her food, I had to run errands, I had to pay the fucking bills, for fuck's sake! And I wasn't doing any better. I thought you didn't love me– I thought I was the reason you left. I thought I could never live up to the other kid you had that was apparently so much better than me that you had to LEAVE in order to be with him!" He was screaming now, tears in his eyes. He was done, he was so done with all of the bullshit he had to go through in order to be happy again, done with the feeling that he wasn't good enough, that he'll never be good enough and that there will always be someone better. And he was mad, so mad at everyone, at his dad for being so shitty and at God for making this happen and at himself for letting it hurt him.

 It was silent for a minute, but then Michael found his voice again. This voice was different, quieter, but it held so much rage and heartbreak in it that it was somehow worse than the screams of before.

 "But shit happens. I moved on. Mom got the most badass job in the world and I got my grades back up. We started to recover. And just a few weeks ago, we moved here, and I started going to the best school ever. She was happy, I was happy. And then you came along and everything came back and I'm just– I'm just done." He took a deep, shaky breath and shot his father the coldest, angriest glare he had ever given, straight into the other man's eyes. "You know, there was a time where I would've killed to have you here. Now you're here, and I'd kill to have you gone." He turned around and opened the door, but a firm hand clutched his arm.

 "Mikey..." His father croaked, his eyes hollow and his face stricken. Michael didn't even look back as he forcefully pulled away, hopping out of the car.

 "Don't ever call me Mikey again," he muttered coldly. And with that, he slammed the door and made his way back into the school.

 

 


	8. Lindsay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's chapter 8, my favorite chapter to write and to read!! Probably because it involves Lindsay. Anyways, I'll see you next week with the final chapters! Questions, comments, and critiques are welcome, and as always, I hope you enjoy~!

  "What happened?" Gavin asked as Michael sat down in his seat in graphics.

"My dad."

"Oh." Gavin didn't really know what was going on between his best friend and his father, but if Michael had gone so far as to ask to stay at his house for two weeks, he assumed it was bad.

 "Sorry, mate."

  Michael didn't say anything else for the rest of class after asking what they were doing.

 Yeah. It must've been really bad.

~~~~~~~

  "You okay? You seemed pretty ticked when you walked into graphics." Lindsay looked concerned, but her friend smiled and waved it off, trying to convince her that there was nothing to worry about. She didn't buy it. "Oh, don't give me that 'I'm-fine' crap, because I can tell that you aren't." Michael sighed and looked into her eyes. They were blue.

  "It's just.. well, it's my dad. He kind of.. cheated on my mom and moved to Atlanta with the other family. Today he came down to Austin and checked me out for no reason, so I kind of exploded." Lindsay's expression was getting more apologetic by the second as he recounted his sob story. When he was done, she spoke.

 "Wow, oh my god, I'm really sorry-" but Michael cut her off.

  "Do you– want to get coffee or something? A-after school?" He blurted out. He had no idea where the outburst had come from, or even what he had said at first. What he did do was cover his mouth with his hand and look more surprised than she did.   

  "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to– wow, where the hell did that come from– I didn't–" He tried to recover.

  "Michael, it's fine," she smiled. "And yeah. I'll go to coffee with you."

   The curly-haired boy was happier than he thought he would be; and for a second, he forgot about his dad. The face of the man he hated so much disappeared from his mind and was replaced by blue eyes and a smile.

    

   "So I'm in line for the midnight release of GTA V, right? And this guy comes up to me and he goes, 'Aren't you a little young to be in this line?' And he's this huge dude, early twenties, tattoos everywhere, big, macho mustache– and naturally, I'm scared as hell. So I manage to get out a 'Yeah, I am, why is this a problem?' But that was when I realized– he was totally checking me out."

  "No," Lindsay laughed, listening to Michael's story intently. "No way."

 "Way. He's biting his lip, trying to play it cool, and he goes 'No, not a problem... it's good to see younger people maturing enough to get these kinds of games. Do you need a ride home once you buy it?' Yeah. He fucking asked to take me home. A complete stranger."

  "You said yes, though, right?" Lindsay joked, and Michael grinned.

 "Absolutely," he took a sip of his Red Bull (he wasn't really a coffee person), trying not to laugh. "And that's the story of the best car sex I've ever had."

  "That reminds me of this one time I was here," his date motioned to the general area of the coffee shop, "and I was on my laptop, you know, just doing my thing– I think it was Minecraft or something? Anyways, this guy comes up to me and he just sort of looks French. That's not relevant to the story, of course, he just seemed French," Michael laughed at that, "but he comes up to me and goes, 'If I can guess your name, you have to go on a date with me.' Of course, I say yes, but I knew that even if he did somehow guess it, I wouldn't. So he thinks for a bit, and eventually just says, 'Lindsay'. And I'm freakin' befuddled, but then I look down and I realize– my name is on the coffee cup." Michael's eyes grew wide and he laughed.

 "Oh my god."

"Yeah. So he got it from my cup, but he has no idea that I know. And I decide to have some fun with it. I start to act all amazed, like 'wow! Amazing! How do you do that, magicians are hot', and he's desperately trying to think of this amazing origin story for himself, but then he looks down at his phone and pretends to get a call so he can leave, and goes 'so, can I have your number?' and I give him the number to this hotline where you participate in beastiality roleplay, and he carried on his merry way. Never saw or heard from him again." That was basically how the date went– they  told funny stories, talked about their basic likes/dislikes– and it was great.

  "Hey, listen... this was awesome. I loved it," Lindsay smiled after getting off the phone with her mom, "but I gotta go." She went to stand up, but Michael grabbed her arm and she turned around.

  "Wait! We should– we should do this again," he said, and was surprised when the girl laughed.

  "Well, duh! I said I loved it. A second date was implied." The boy's stomach fluttered at the word 'date', and he smiled.

  "Awesome, that's– awesome. See you tomorrow!" And with that, Lindsay left.

  ~~~~~~

  "Wait. So you just got home from a date with Lindsay?!" Gavin asked, his eyes wide. "Did you have fun? Is there gonna be a second date?" He lowered his voice and leaned in closely. "Did you kiss?"

  Michael laughed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, and no," he answered. Then he smiled sheepishly, recounting the events of only hours before in his mind. “Wow, Gav. Lindsay’s great.” His British friend rolled his eyes and sighed.  
 “Oh, Michael. You’re lovestruck! Michael’s got a girlfriend, Michael’s got a girlfriend…” He grinned wickedly as he sang and danced around the room. Michael rolled his eyes, but smiled to himself. _Take that, Dad,_ he thought. _I don’t need you in my life to be happy anymore._

 

 


	9. Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit, guys. I have no excuse, I'm SO sorry. I've just been very lazy and have felt like these last two chapters weren't sufficient. But, fuck it, right? Here are the last two chapters of Pieces!

   News spread like wildfire-- Lindsay Tuggey and that new kid Michael Jones were dating. Of course, no one was really affected by the news, but everyone still knew about it soon enough. Gavin, however, might have actually been happier than Michael and Lindsay themselves. He was hoping that since Michael had a girlfriend, Chase would leave him alone. There was no way he would still call him gayboy or talk about his friend being more than a friend if Michael was dating someone!

  “So, your boyfriend dumped you, huh, faggot? You deserve it, really, you piece of shit. He could do way better than you.” Chase laughed darkly as Gavin took his books out of his locker. The Brit just ignored him: mean comments were nothing compared to the beatings he had received before, and therefore he could live with them.

 “Aww, look, he’s too heartbroken to speak,” the bully fake-pouted. “Don’t worry, Gavvy-Wavvy, you still have Dan! But I wouldn’t bee surprised if he left you too. The only one you’d have left then is that little brat Millie.”

 At this, Gavin’s expression changed completely. His nonchalant expression transformed into one of controlled rage. His nostrils flared, his eyes turned cold. Chase saw that he had stricken a nerve despite Gavin’s attempts to hide his anger and continued.

  “My mom is a teacher, here, Free-- word gets around. There must be a reason why you live with your graphics teacher and his retarded, ugly-ass daughter…” he trailed off, shooting a taunting grin at the Brit.

 “You shut up right now,” Gavin said quietly.

 “Oh? What was that? You miss your real mommy and daddy?”

 “Shut up.” It was louder now.

 “Shut up? Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait…you don’t. And you probably wouldn’t anyways, what with it smelling like beer all the time.”

 “I said-- SHUT UP!” And with that, Gavin Free threw a punch for the first time in his life,

 

 “Gavin? GAV? Can you hear me?” A worried voice reached Gavin’s ears, but it was muffled, as if a wall separated them. A face was swimming in and out of view as he fought to stay conscious.

 “R-Ray?” He mumbled, and heard multiple relieved sighs in response.

 “Oh, thank God, he’s okay,” he heard Griffon say.

           And then someone slapped him in the face.

   “Ow!” He exclaimed, sitting up quickly, very much conscious and very much annoyed. “What the hell was that for? Who did that?!” He looked around the room, his vision hazy and his mind muddled.

 “Sorry, man, you weren’t waking up!” Ray said, his voice to the Brit’s left. His vision cleared and Michael, Ray, Lindsay, Griffon, Millie, Dan, and Geoff standing around the hospital bed he was in.

 Wait. why am I in a hospital bed?

 “Are you okay, Gav?” Millie asked, looking worried. The Brit smiled in response.

 “Of course! But, uh… why wouldn’t I be okay?”

 All smiles faded. “Uh.. Gavin? Chase beat you up pretty badly,” Michael said. “Don’t you remember?”

 Scoffing, the teenager tried to get out of bed… and immediately fell back down, yelping out in pain.

 “Ow! Oh, God, why-- oh.” Suddenly, he started to remember what had happened. He threw the first punch and it connected with Chase’s jaw, but it was all downhill from there. And now he was bruised all over, and everything hurt.

  “He was talking about Millie,” he said, and then quietly added, “and my parents.”

 Dan chimed in for the first time. “Oh, man. I’m really sorry, Gav.” Geoff and Griffon looked sympathetic too, but Michael and Ray had no idea what was going on. What had happened to Gavin’s parents? What caused him to start living with his graphics teacher?

  “My parents… weren’t the best,” he faced his two ignorant friends and started to answer the questions they had wondered about for so long. “When I was growing up, they were… yelly. And hitty. And drinky. And then, last year, it got so bad that… well, I was kind of done. I worked to get enough money for a plane ticket and a passport, packed up, and left overnight to my internet friend Dan’s in Austin. Started babysitting Millie for money, and once the Ramseys learned about me, they took me in. I’ve never seen them since, and frankly, I’m quite happy without them.” When he was done, both Ray and Michael were sympathetic, but for Michael, it all made sense. Why he always managed on his own, why he winced whenever someone brought their hand close to him-- it all made sense. The fourth piece of the puzzle was in place.

  And it showed a really, really sad picture.

 

  Gavin had a fractured shoulder a busted lip, and a bruised rib. He was also suspended for starting a fight, but Geoff didn’t mind. He stayed home to help care for Gavin and plot revenge against Chase.

 “Michael and I can convince principal Burns to help, and Ray, Lindsay, Dan, Barbara, and some seniors want to help. Oh, and Mr. Haywood and Mr. Pattillo will play a part too.” Geoff and Gavin discussed the ideas and checked off boxes in a mental list. Eventually, however, the big question emerged.

 “What are we actually going to do?” Gavin asked. At this, Geoff smiled darkly.

 “Oh, trust me. It’ll be worth it.”

 And Gavin had no other choice but to agree with him as he explained the plan.

_This was going to be good._

 

 

 


	10. Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here it is! The final chapter. Despite the major hiatus, I had a ton of fun doing this, and the tremendous amount of positive feedback has been astonishing. I'm trying to write more, since I haven't really written a full story of any length since I wrote this a year ago, so if you subscribe to me you'll probably get more Achievement Hunter stories when I upload them!! You don't have to, but it's a really, really good idea ;D Questions, comments, and critiques are welcome, and as always, I hope you enjoy~! (P.S. If you don't know what an Active Board is, it's literally just a Smartboard. And if you don't know what THAT is, click this http://www.awesomescreenshot.com/image/324171/399865aca6be3eb6752c3e31e6ac7c79)

 It took exactly nine days to perfect their plan. Two days to come up with the whole idea, four days to communicate and coordinate it with everyone in on it, and three days to smooth over all of the edges. But, by the next Tuesday, they were ready.

 

  “Attention, students and teachers,” the old intercom crackled to life with Burnie’s voice. “There is a problem we’ve been meaning to address.” At this, the school became silent. “For a few days now, there have been a string of the staff’s items that have gone missing. Nothing big: coffee mugs, Active board pens, gum, bracelets, and one case of a phone. We’ll just be initiating random backpack searches throughout the day. Just wanted to let you know so you’re not confused! This means you’ll be carrying your backpacks with you throughout the day. Thanks, and have a good one!” When the noise died, students immediately made their way to their lockers. One student in particular, Chase Stuart, was among them. He grabbed his backpack out of his locker and slung it onto his shoulder; however, he immediately regretted it.

 “Ow! What the hell…?” The bully muttered. The bookbag seemed a lot heavier than it had been this morning. Curious, he carried it back to his classroom, sat down, and opened the front pocket discreetly.

  Inside was not an leftover drugs, or about ten cans of beer as he had thought, but instead, his backpack was filled with Active board pens. About a dozen of them. Chase quickly zipped it closed, breathing heavily and trying to remember if he had stolen any pens recently. Just when he had decided he hadn’t, he heard a voice call his name.

 “Chase Stuart, can I see you for a moment?” Mrs. Ramsey, his chem teacher, said. Of course, at this point, the bully was a nervous wreck-- or at least, on the inside he was.

  “You got it, teach,” he winked, standing up and swaggering over to her desk.

 “Mr. Stuart, I just received this from your mom, she forgot to give you your lunch, apparently, so…” the teacher motioned to the paper bag that was clutched in her tattooed hand.

 Inwardly relieved but outwardly nonchalant, he grabbed the brown bag and quickly made his way back to his seat.

  However, all outward appearances of calm, collectiveness vanished as he looked in the lunch bag.   
Under a bag of chips, a sandwich, and a brownie, there was a phone. And it wasn’t his.

  “Oh my god,” he breathed. This attracted the attention of his friend Marshall.

“Dude, what’s wrong? Did she leave you a love letter?” He teased. Chase was not amused. He shook his head and hurriedly closed the paper bag. How did a phone get in here? He thought. Wanting it to get out of his sight, he risked opening the biggest pocket of his bookbag to stuff it in-- only to find that this pocket had been filled with around four empty coffee mugs.

 “Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no! How the fu-?” His small meltdown was interrupted by the intercom.

 “Chase Stuart, please report to the office with your belongings. Chase Stuart, please report to the office with your belongings.” Every head snapped towards him, and for once, the biggest man in the school felt positively tiny.

 

  “Yes, Mr. Burns?” Chase said, sitting down in the chair across from the principal. The head of the school simply looked at his stuff pointedly.

  “May I please see your backpack?”

  The bully gulped. He hadn’t had time to empty out his backpack: it would’ve taken too long, and it would have been suspicious. Eventually, however, Chase’s shaking hands picked up his backpack and heaved it onto the desk with a clang. Mr. Burns pulled it towards him and slowly unzipped it, revealing all of the stolen items.

  “Mr. Burns, I swear, it wasn’t me that stole these, please believe me-” his begging was cut short by the man putting up his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture.

 “Chase. You have a history of _violent_ bullying, with one student hospitalized. You have had connections to drugs, underage alcohol intake, rape– why should I believe that thievery shouldn't be added to the list?" Burnie eyed the student, making him extremely uncomfortable.

  "Because I didn't steal them! We went to go get our backpacks in second period and the pens were there, and then Mrs. Ramsey gave me a lunch bag from my mom with the phone inside it! And- and then, and then, I went to put the bag in my backpack and boom! The coffee mugs were suddenly in there! You've gotta believe me, Mr. Burns, I'm serious-"

  “Mr. Stuart,quit your blubbering and begging right now before I shut your mouth for you!” The principal bellowed, standing up and slamming his palms onto the table. “I do not accept or listen to sob stories, excuses, or anything else you have to say in terms of your ‘innocence’. Nothing you can tell me will get you off the hook. You need to realize that this time, there is no getting off Scott-free while the students and faculty of this high school are left to clean up the mess you leave behind. This time, you are going to be held responsible for your actions!” At this point, invincible Chase Stuart was close to tears.

 “I- I’m sorry, it-- it wasn’t me, I’ll do anything for you to believe me…” Mr. Burns ignored him and instead said something that caused the bully’s stomach to drop.

 “ _Anything_?” Mr. Burns pondered. “If that’s the case, I think I have the perfect way for you to apologize.”

 

 “Okay, are we on the air?” Geoff whispered. Mr. Haywood shook his head as he focused the camera on the graphics teacher, who was facing the lens with an entertained look on his face and a sheet of paper in his hands. It was the next day, and the plan was finally being put into motion.

  “Not yet, d’you have the audio and video synced?” Mr. Pattillo nodded. And with that, AHWU (Austin High Weekly Update) was broadcasted schoolwide for the second time that week.

 “Whaat’s up everybody? Mr. Ramsey here, and this is a very special addition of AHWU!” The teacher announced. He then threw the sheets of paper up in the air and smiled as they rained down. “This is an AHWU especially dedicated to the apology of a certain senior. Mr. Stuart, why don’t you take it from here?” Mr. Haywood then focused the panned over to the student sitting beside him, who had a bitter expression displayed on his face.

  “Hello,” he said sourly in monotone, as if reading off of a script. “I’m Chase. You probably know me as…” he inhaled deeply, looking royally pissed off, “as Chase, the one who beat you up or stole your possessions. Well, I’m here to apologize. To every single one of you. However, since I can’t name all of you for my bullying, discrimination, and overall rudeness, I’ll just have to address the ones I bullied the most. Savannah Heartwright, Trevor Scott, and Gavin Free. Especially Gavin Free, who was hospitalized due to injuries that I caused him. However, he’s mostly healed now, and his health has skyrocketed in the last ten days, which is… fantastic.” Though he was forcing a smile, the bully was simultaneously calmly spazzing out: eye twitching, gritted teeth, deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth, et cetera. He obviously was hating every second of this-- which was ironic, seeing as everyone in RT High but his mom was loving every second of it.

  Suddenly, Gavin popped into the room, makeup and ‘false fear’ (at least, he told his friends it was false) both on his face

  “Oh, look, here comes Gavin now,” Chase said dejectedly. In response, the Brit limped his way into the shot, making sure to show off his sling that his fractured arm was in.

  “What the- what the hell happened to you?” It wasn’t a question of concern, more of disgust. Gavin scowled and shook his head.

  “Oh, like you don’t know, Ch-Chase,” the junior said, his comment a half-snarl, half-whimper. “Today before homeroom started, y-you cornered me and did this,” he motioned to his black eye, bloody nose, and limp, “just because you got caught stealing items from the staff.” The teachers and everybody else involved had to admit-- Gavin’s convincing acting was seriously pulling this thing together.

  “I never…” He sighed, and at that moment, everyone could tell that he had given up trying to keep his cover. “So what if I did? I needed to vent, I-” Chase stopped himself suddenly as the teachers gaped at him. Gavin wasn’t acting. He had actually beaten him up this morning. 

  It had to be some sort of world record: the student managed to get from his first period class to the teacher’s lounge in less than two minutes.

 “H-hold it right there, Ch-Chase!” Michael demanded between gasps for air. “Wh-what the.. what the hell do you mean you… you beat him up again?! I thought we established that you weren’t… you weren’t gonna do that anymore.” He finally found his lungs and stood up straight. The bully just sneered.

  “Puh-lease, it’s not like you’re my mom or anything. Just because you want to protect your boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t beat the crap out of him,” despite his hurtful outburst, Michael was struggling not to smile: Chase had forgotten he was on camera. So, Michael did a bit of improv.

 “Oh, and your ‘mommy’ tells you exactly what to do, and you follow all of her little rules?” He teased, eliciting the exact response he had been hoping for: embarrassment.

  “N-no! Of course not! I am not a momma’s boy like you! I go against my mom all the time! Yeah, she’s a teacher or whatever, but that doesn’t mean that I bang any less chicks, or drink any less booze, or, God fucking forbid, do any more homework! I’m not ‘Mrs. Stuart’s kid’ anymore, okay? I’m Chase Motherfucking Stuart, and I’m…” All of the rage and color drained from his face the split second he noticed the blinking green dot on the camera. “...still on the air, aren’t I?”

  “Yep.” Gavin had never felt such satisfaction in uttering a single syllable in his entire life.

  
  
  


   Michael had thought that solving the mystery of Gavin’s parents was the only puzzle he needed to solve-- but this whole ordeal had made him realize that those were only four pieces of a much bigger, much crazier puzzle. Everything that had happened was a piece, and there were spaces for everything that was going to happen in the future. Eventually, however long it would take, all of the pieces would be in place, fitting together perfectly, revealing the big picture. This was a puzzle that had an infinite number of pieces, and he couldn’t just look at the box and cheat his way to victory-- and frankly, he didn’t want to. He was happy with figuring out his life as he went, because his life was pretty damn amazing at the moment.

   Michael’s alarm clock was the most annoying thing in existence. But, you know, he didn’t really mind it anymore.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first chapter! I'll be posting chapter two along with this, so no worries. I hope you guys liked it! Lots of characters introduced next chapter. Reviews are welcome!


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